


Strange How We Fit Each Other

by deandratb



Category: One Day at a Time (TV 2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Formalwear, Huddling For Warmth, Locked In, Mutual Pining, Romantic Fluff, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-04-07 08:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14077041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deandratb/pseuds/deandratb
Summary: Penelope agrees to pose as Schneider's girlfriend, and sees him in a new light."I am not your average gala attendee, Penelope. After the first hundred or so white tie affairs, you get pretty good at the ins and outs of the outfit.”“The first hundred.” Sparkling juice nearly went up her nose, and she set the flute aside. “Why would anyone need to go through this a hundred times?”





	1. You Held Your Breath And The Door For Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Attyrahela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attyrahela/gifts).



> A birthday gift that technically only requested two of the many, many tropes I decided to toss in here. I would say this got out of control quickly...but it was never really under control to begin with.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise invite, and playing dress-up. _“Schneider, are you interrupting my study session to ask me to be your date to a party you don’t even want to go to?”_

“Penelope!”

She had ignored his first two knocks, which Penelope thought should’ve been a clear sign that she was not home–or not interested. With Alex at the movies, Elena on a date with Syd, and her _Mami_ out doing something “friendly” with Dr. Berkowitz, the silence in their apartment was a rare and wonderful thing.

Of course Schneider had to show up and ruin it.

“Come on, Penelope, your mom told me you’re home. Please let me in! It’s an emergency.”

Muttering to herself about the emergency she was going to give him, Penelope left her books on the couch and unlocked the door.

“I’m busy, okay? Can’t your teeth whitener’s double-booking wait until tomorrow?”

“I told you, the bleaching process is **delicate.** But that’s not why I’m here. Can I come in?”

She sighed and stepped back. Realistically, since he had keys and she hadn’t put the chain on the door, Schneider waiting for permission was a show of respect.

“I was looking forward to having the place to myself, so make it quick.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I just…I really need a favor. And it’s a big favor, and I know you’re not gonna want to do it, but I don’t know anybody else I can ask.”

“Okay, I think we’d better sit down for this.” Penelope’s mind was already making a list of what might count as a huge favor to Schneider. _Feeding his seahorses? Being a character witness? Oh god, please don’t let it be a medical referral for something gross._

“Well.” He took a deep breath. He let it out. “Okay.”

Though Penelope was tapping a foot impatiently, she held her tongue. He actually looked nervous, which was rare for Schneider.

“So,” he began again. “I have this event coming up. Father’s throwing a charity gala connected to his company, and usually I avoid them, but he made it very clear that he expects me to attend. Sometimes he doesn’t ask so much as decree, y’know?”

Nodding, Penelope gestured for him to continue. So far, not as creepy as she was expecting.

“The problem is, the last time we spoke, I may have implied that Nikki and I were an item. Stupid, I know, but he gets that tone…that ‘you’re never going to get it together and be an adult’ tone…and I just sort of blurted out that I was in a serious relationship.”

“Ugh. And you told him it was with Nikki? ‘Cause I thought after Homecoming that was over.”

“This was before Homecoming. But no, I didn’t specifically say it was Nikki–Father’s not big on personal details, especially anything involving feelings. He changed the subject pretty quick.”

Schneider removed his glasses long enough to rub a hand over his face, then replaced them, blinking at her. “Anyway, I was hoping maybe he forgot, but when he demanded that I go to this thing, he made it clear that I’m supposed to bring my girlfriend.”

“Oh. **Oh.** ”

“Yeah. That’s going to be tricky considering Nikki’s long gone, and also was never really my girlfriend in the first place.”

There was a flash of pain in his eyes, that passed as quickly as it appeared, and it was the memory of Schneider saying goodnight after the dance, looking tired and alone and unexpectedly sad, that softened Penelope’s reply.

“You can’t just say she’s sick and go by yourself?”

“No. These parties are all about status and who’s with who, and showing up alone is like telegraphing that there’s something wrong with you. And I mean, yeah, okay–” he laughed, without humor, instead of finishing that thought. 

“The whole point of going is to make the business look good, to make Father look good, like a successful man with an impressive heir. It’s stupid, you know? But I have to go.”

He turned his wide, pleading eyes her way. “And I **have** to bring a date.”

“ _Ay carajo._ Schneider, are you interrupting my study session to ask me to be your date to a party you don’t even want to go to?”

“Well, actually…” He frowned a little, looking anywhere but at Penelope. “I’m asking you to be my girlfriend. My fake girlfriend! For that one night, just for the party.”

“I’ll pay for everything,” he rushed to add before she could reply. “Your dress, the travel, food, a hotel room if you don’t want to head back that night. I swear I wouldn’t be asking, but I’m desperate. I need…I need this to go well.”

His tone had Penelope narrowing her eyes. “There’s more you’re not telling me.”

“I–um. I really didn’t want to go. And Father is usually just as happy as I am, keeping me far from his business, that whole world. So I said no the first time.”

“Ah.”

“He was furious. He threatened to take the building away from me if I didn’t ‘show up, act like a man, and start atoning for a lifetime of mistakes.’ His words.”

Schneider didn’t seem upset about his dad talking to him that way, after he had worked so hard to get clean and stay sober. He just seemed quiet. Defeated.

Penelope felt a flare of irrational anger on his behalf. “He can’t do that. It’s yours.”

“If he got his lawyers involved, he could probably do whatever he wanted,” Schneider replied. “He always knows a guy.”

“That’s not what I meant. Schneider, this building belongs to you, just like you belong to it. You’ve put your heart and soul into this place, helping all the tenants. You think some manager your father assigns is going to babysit for the tenants, or be the chauffeur for a girl’s _quinces?_ ”

“It doesn’t matter who legally owns it.” Penelope concluded quietly. “Even if he takes it, he can’t have it. Okay?”

Schneider was blinking hard behind his glasses–but his voice was steady. “Okay.”

“Now, about this party.”

His slightly reddened eyes widened. “Yeah?”

“When is it?”

“Two Saturdays from now. The 19th.”

“That should be enough time,” she mused, sitting back against the couch. 

“Enough time for…what?”

“To knock the entitled smile off your father’s face when you walk in with me as your girlfriend.”

“Penelope! You’ll do it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like to,” she told him, only realizing after the words hit the air that they were true. 

Schneider grabbed her for a hard, impulsive hug, then once he’d returned to his couch cushion, sat there grinning. “Thank you. Wow, thank you so much. And like I said, I’ll pay for everything. Dress, shoes, transportation. You just have to show up and be your charming self.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about the outfit. I’ve got plenty of those.”

He shook his head. “No. Seriously, on that I insist. You can go shopping with your mom; she’ll love it.”

“I don’t need your money, Schneider.”

“I know that. But I came to you for help…and you’re helping. So let me do this.”

Schneider reached for her hand, his voice dropping to a lower, quieter register. She never knew how to defend herself against his sincerity–so unexpected, so at odds with how she usually saw him. “Pen. Please.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Yeah, okay, you can pay for a dress. But not shoes.” 

Penelope pointed a finger at him. “I have shoes. Got it?”

“Sure. I’ll give you my Amex next weekend.”

“I’ll hide it from my _Mami._ ”

“Good plan.” He was still smiling at her. The silence between them was comfortable, like it always was, but the longer Schneider smiled the more she had to resist the urge to squirm. That intense focus of his was a lot when he aimed it her way.

Penelope wondered if he was going to shave this time. She banished the thought as soon it hit her. _So stupid._

If Schneider noticed that she was a little flushed when she looked away, he didn’t point it out.

****

 _“Mami,_ are you ready?”

Lydia swished the curtains back, letting them frame her while Penelope grabbed her purse.

“I am ready. And I have the address for you to put in your GPS.”

The exaggerated way she drew out the letters made her daughter smile. “Well, good, let’s go. But I won’t need the GPS–we’re just going to the mall.”

“No, no, no. I am under strict instructions to go with you to a store you would not usually shop at and help you pick out a dress that will make you the most enchanting woman at the party.”

“Instructions from who?” Penelope folded her arms. “ _Mami,_ did Schneider talk to you about this? Because there’s nothing wrong with getting a nice dress from a department store that I’ll actually be able to wear again.”

“This is a **very** fancy party. Schneider showed me on the computer, so I could help you. And you are going to go in a dress that will make everyone who sees you very, very jealous.” 

Lydia smiled. “The store, it is on Wilshire Boulevard.”

Penelope hissed out a breath. “ _Ay, Mami._ How much does Schneider really want to spend on a dress that’ll get worn for one night?”

Her mom squeezed her hand on their way out the door. “It is important to him, Lupe. Why not give him a night to remember?”

****

As soon as they entered, a woman approached them from between the sparse displays scattered throughout the expansive store.

“Good morning,” the employee greeted them with a polished smile. “Do you have an appointment with us today?”

Penelope was about to say _No, of course we don’t, do we look like the kind of people who shop at places like this? See Mami, let’s just go to the mall_ –when Lydia stepped in front of her and held out a regal hand.

“Yes. My daughter is here for a dress. She has an appointment with Karla.”

“Very good. Please come this way.”

The woman leading them to a waiting room was impossibly tall and thin and made Penelope even more certain that was not the place she should be looking for a dress.

As soon as the door closed them into the luxurious space, she turned and hissed, _“Mami.”_

"Yes?”

“What is this, some kind of conspiracy? Between you and Schneider?”

“There is no conspiracy. We have just agreed to work together, to get you ready for the party…without telling you.”

“What else did he talk you into?” Penelope stifled a groan and rested her head in her hands. “Oh, I never should have said I would do this.” 

“But you did,” Lydia pointed out. “And so, we are here. According to Schneider the dresses are _muy elegante_ and whatever you like they can alter–but of course my sewing is much better, so I will fix the dress once you find it.”

“Did you see the clothes in the window?” Penelope argued. “Nothing here is going to fit this Latina body.”

Lydia scoffed at Penelope’s frantic gesture from her head to her toes. “Schneider said–”

 _“Mami,_ I don’t care what Schneider said. Schneider has no idea what he’s talking about. He dates women like Nikki and Stick Girl. **They** could shop here.”

Her mom reached over to squeeze her hand. “Lupita, just give it a chance.”

The door opened and a trim blonde walked in with a clipboard and a smile. “Hi there, you must be Penelope Alvarez.”

“No, I am her mother,” Lydia replied. “But I understand your mistake.”

“That’s me,” Penelope replied, standing and offering Karla a firm handshake. _Sometimes her Army training popped up in the strangest places,_ she realized. She really shouldn’t be this nervous over a dumb corporate party.

“Now, I understand you’re looking for a gown,” Karla said. “Why don’t we head upstairs to your fitting room?”

Aiming a suspicious look at her mom, Penelope followed Karla to a sleek copper elevator.

“I don’t have anything picked out yet,” she said as the doors shut behind the three of them.

“Oh, I know. Don’t worry, Penelope, we’re going to find something you absolutely love. But we like to work out the initial details in a more…intimate setting.”

The elevator beeped quietly, rather than the jarring ding she was expecting, and the doors opened onto a bright, white expanse of space.

 _This was their idea of a soothing sales floor?_ She thought, as Karla steered them toward a hallway lined with pastels. It was so stark. It made her want to run to Target and at least grab some loud throw pillows or something. _How could anybody even think in a place with no color?_

“I’m hoping that this will be to your liking,” Karla said, keying in a code near the end of the corridor. 

When they entered, Penelope froze for a moment, until Lydia nudged her along. _Now **this** was a showroom,_ she thought, impressed.

The gowns were draped on headless frames, arranged along three walls with a handful in the center of the room. The room itself was pale blue, with airy skylights–but pops of color dotted the walls as modern art. They didn’t overshadow the gowns…but yes, this was a room she could play dress-up in.

Lydia was already setting her purse down on a nearby chair and examining the first row of dresses with her critical eye.

“So, your escort,” Karla said, pulling Penelope’s focus away from the room. “The man who arranged this appointment, he told us that it’s going to be a white-tie event.”

“I didn’t know that, actually.” He hadn’t mentioned that when he asked. “I thought people didn’t really do that much anymore.” 

“Honestly, they don’t. Galas, the occasional political or charity ball…we don’t get a lot of white-tie requests, but luckily for you, the dress code for women is very similar to black-tie.”

“Right,” Penelope replied faintly. “That’s good news.”

“It is.” Karla smiled. “It means that as long as you find a floor-length gown, everything else is open to what interests you. So, let’s start there. What did you have in mind? What do you like?”

“Bold colors,” Lydia said from across the room. 

“She’s right,” Penelope agreed, turning to stare at the row along the nearest wall. “Maybe something with a little sparkle to it? Or is that too much?”

“No, not at all. If the goal is to stand out–”

“We are _Cubana!_ ” Lydia interrupted to reply, as though that were enough of an answer.

“It is the goal,” Penelope agreed with a grin at her _Mami._

“Then a touch of beading or shimmer would be entirely appropriate.” Karla wrote something down on her clipboard.

She smiled at them both. “Okay. I’m going to grab a few samples for you. I’ll be back in ten minutes. Look around, see what catches your eye…let me know if you get any ideas.”

“I’m getting the idea that for Schneider, shopping must be very different from shopping at the mall,” Penelope told her mom once they were alone in the room.

“No, Schneider loves the mall,” Lydia replied as she held a skirt out in front of her, angling it this way and that to catch the light. “He likes to watch all the people.”

Not sure what to do with that information, Penelope shifted her attention to the wall behind her.

****

After two full hours of trying on dresses, waiting while more selections arrived and the store plied them with sparkling juice, she found the one.

Not too much cleavage, just sleek enough–appropriate but bordering on not. _It would do the job._

“Definitely this one,” Penelope declared, handing the gown to Karla’s assistant. Now that she had found it, part of her didn’t want to let the dress out of her sight, a possessive streak she noted with surprise.

“Yes, Schneider will love that one,” Lydia said approvingly.

“ _Ay, Mami,_ you make it sound like this is a date.”

Her mother made a noncommittal noise as they watched the dress get taken to a back room.

“It’s not a date. And I don’t care if he loves it.”

“If you do not care, then why did you agree to go at all?”

“Because he needed my help. And he’s my friend. You know this–I don’t know why we’re even talking about it right now.”

“He is your friend, so you will go to his father’s party, and dance, and dress up, yes? Because you want to make him happy.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then. Have them send the dress. Now, we find you shoes.”

“No, _Mami,_ I have shoes.”

“We are going to get you better shoes. Shoes that will match that dress.”

“I don’t need shoes that cost hundreds of dollars to go with a dress I’m never going to wear again.”

“Schneider wants you to go to his party in style,” her mom argued. “He wants to pay for your dress and your shoes and take you as his girlfriend in front of all the people. _Mira,_ if you want to make him happy, because he is your **friend** …that is how you do it.”

As though they’d planned it, Penelope’s phone went off while Lydia was still staring her down.

 _My card’s been authorized two stores over,_ Schneider’s text said. _I know, I know, you can yell at me later, but…any shoes you want. Don’t even check the price tags. Please?_

She looked up at her mom, who was smart enough not to say anything more.

“Fine. You win. Since Schneider’s paying, let’s go get me some freaking amazing shoes.”

****

On Saturday night, Schneider knocked at exactly fifteen minutes to seven, while Penelope was double-checking that she had everything she needed.

Lydia answered the door, and from her room she could hear the low murmur of Schneider’s voice and her mom’s flirtatious laughter.

Shaking her head, Penelope grabbed the bag she had folded a comfortable change of clothes into and went to join them.

 _He was so dressed up,_ Penelope thought when she saw Schneider. Shoes shined, white tails on his suit…it was crazy. _This whole thing was insane._

“Hey,” he said when he saw her step out of the hall. Well, he breathed it more than said it, and she grinned in response. 

“That’s all I get? Two hours and my mom’s help to make this happen, and that’s it?”

Schneider blinked at her for a long moment before he seemed to realize she was teasing. The dumbstruck expression on his face did wonders for her ego. “You look fantastic,” he replied sincerely, instead of joking back.

“You too,” Penelope told him. She set her bag down to grab her coat. 

Lydia beamed up at him. “ _Si,_ Schneider, you look so handsome. Like an old movie star.”

“Thank you.” Under their combined attention, he looked like he was resisting the urge to tug at his collar. Penelope had to hide a smile.

“And you.” Lydia turned, pressing a hand to Lupe’s cheek. “ _Mira._ Red is your color.”

She nodded approvingly at them. “Now, Leslie is taking me to the opera. Elena will watch Alex when they get home, and you two go have a wonderful time, yes? Make sure you dance. That dress was made for dancing.”

Lydia left them with a hint of violets in the air and a slight smile on her lips.

As Penelope shut the door, Schneider reached out to take her coat before she could put it on. “Have I thanked you for agreeing to do this?”

“Only about a million times. It’s not a big deal, Schneider, I was free–and who doesn’t love the chance to get dressed up once in a while?”

Penelope swished her floor-length skirt, watching the beading shimmer. “Especially in an honest-to-god ball gown.”

“Well, I’m grateful. I see,” he added with a grin, “that you opted not to go with the white gloves. Interesting choice.”

She shook her head. “Too much like my _Mami._ You know, she tried to make me wear a tiara.”

Schneider straightened his bow tie in the mirror and smoothed down his vest. “That does not surprise me at all. It would probably be too much.”

“You think?”

“You **should** wear a little something, though. A necklace, maybe?” He eyed her bare neck critically. “Yeah, I think a necklace.”

Before she could think of a suitable retort, Schneider was pulling a long black jewelry box out from behind his back, opening it with a flourish.

“Schneider.”

Inside was a glittering strand of red and cool white. And because it was Schneider, there was very little chance the icy shimmer was coming from cubic zirconium.

“I can’t wear that.”

“Of course you can. It matches your dress.”

“It probably costs more than my car.”

“Pen, taking the family out to dinner costs more than your car. That’s really not a good gauge.”

“I’m not going to wear a thousand dollars in diamonds around my neck, Schneider. Not happening.”

She caught the look as it crossed his face, and narrowed her eyes. “More than a thousand dollars? Are you insane?”

“That’s how this is done, Penelope. I put on the white tie, you put on the jewelry, we pretend to enjoy the night, then we come home. We go back to our regular lives, and I return the necklace to the store that loaned it to me.”

“It’s a loan.”

“Yeah. You thought I bought this?” He shook his head. “The men in my family only buy women jewelry when they’re having an affair.”

“Classy.”

“There’s a reason I have five moms,” he reminded her. “Anyway, it’ll look great on you. And when we’re done, it goes back.”

She was wavering, and Schneider knew it. “Here,” he murmured, moving to stand behind her.

Facing the mirror on her front door, Schneider draped the necklace against her collarbone, letting it settle there. “See? It’s perfect.”

Penelope so badly wanted to argue with him, but the necklace glittered in the Target-decorated living room, throwing little arcs of light up toward her pinned hair…and it made her feel enchanted. _The night **was** all about make-believe. Wasn’t it?_

“You swear, it goes back tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.” Schneider brushed stray curls up off her neck and secured the clasp. “There…we…go.”

He stepped back and smiled at her in the mirror. “Ready?”

Penelope let him help her into her coat.

“Let’s do this thing.”

****

“So, you didn’t shave like you did for the _quinces,_ ” Penelope pointed out as they climbed into the limo.

“Well, we’re here for a very serious purpose,” he deadpanned. “I didn’t want to get you all distracted by my sexiness.”

She swatted Schneider with her clutch and settled into the warm seat facing him. “Really, though. The beard and the glasses aren’t out of place at an event like this?”

He shrugged before reaching into an ice bucket on the seat next to him and handing her an empty glass. “I had to go to this thing, I’m wearing the white tie. I should be able to look a little like me.”

“I agree.” Penelope raised the glass in a toast to his words, watching him pull a bottle out and work on the gold foil at the top. “That’s not…”

Schneider smiled a little. “It’s sparkling juice. I’m the one that hired the limo, remember?”

“Right. Good.” _How long would it take,_ she wondered, _before she stopped being dragged back to the times when she had believed that Victor was going to change and then it all crashed down around her?_

Schneider had been sober for years–she had never really known him as anything else–and yet that slight panic, that chill down the back of her neck, was automatic.

Something must have flickered in her eyes, because Schneider tapped on the divider to tell the driver to head out, and then he plucked the glass from her hand. “Penelope?”

“Yeah.” _She and the kids were safe,_ she reminded herself. She was here, now, and the life she had built for them, it was working.

“You good?”

He linked his fingers with hers, like maybe that was why he’d taken the glass back–just to connect for a moment. Just to hold her hand. She nodded and squeezed back.

“Yeah. Yeah, Schneider, I’m good.”

“Anyway,” he told her as he released her hand and finished opening the bottle, “this outfit takes an average of three skilled professionals to make happen. On top of that, I really didn’t want to have to deal with a close shave.”

Letting him pour her juice, Penelope settled back against the soft leather seat. “I hear you. I needed my mom’s help to even get this gown on. Totally impractical. But, wait–if you needed three guys to get all dressed up, what are you going to do tonight after the party?”

“What do you mean?”

“After we’re done schmoozing, I doubt you have three men on retainer waiting for you to come home. And you can’t sleep in that.”

“First of all, nobody claimed they were men,” Schneider protested. “I mean, they were, but it’s rude to make assumptions. And secondly, I said it takes help for the average person. I am not your average gala attendee, Penelope. After the first hundred or so white tie affairs, you get pretty good at the ins and outs of the outfit.”

“The first hundred.” Sparkling juice nearly went up her nose, and she set the flute aside. “Why would anyone need to go through this a hundred times?”

“I actually lost count at one hundred and seven,” he corrected her. “These events aren’t always adults-only; I got started young. Lots of practice on how to dress and behave…learning what’s expected. You know?”

“No.” She shook her head as she watched Schneider drink from his own glass, “No, I really don’t.”

Penelope was starting to get the impression that nothing she thought about his life before they met was accurate at all.


	2. The Bearer Of Unconditional Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dancing, talking...Penelope losing the war with her temper. _“Well,” she said after a moment. “We can’t eat the food, we have to limit our beverage intake in these getups...do you want to dance?”_

“I’m glad you went with a regular limo,” she told him as they arrived at the event. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I mean, if you had to do the limo thing at all…at least it’s not a Hummer limo.”

He scoffed. “Come on, Pen, don’t be silly. A Hummer limo is way too casual for a white tie gala.”

“Right.” _Because the opera is so down to earth,_ Penelope thought as the car slowed to a stop. She hugged her coat a little tighter and reached for the door handle.

Schneider’s hand on top of hers stopped her movement. “What are you doing?”

“Going to a ball.”

“That’s not how you go to a ball.” He shook his head. “Look at what you’re wearing, Penelope. Gorgeous women in beautiful gowns do not open their own doors.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s going to be like this all night, isn’t it?”

“Like what?”

“You telling me everything I’m doing that doesn’t fit into your privileged world. I agreed to come, I can handle it…but _ay Dios mio,_ Schneider, it’s annoying.”

His eyes widened behind his glasses. “I don’t mean it like that!”

Penelope sighed. “I know you don’t.“

“I’m not phrasing things very well.”

“It’s not about how you phrase stuff.”

Schneider rubbed a hand over his beard, a tell for stress that she didn’t see very often. “Yes, it is. What I was trying to say was that you’re my guest. You shouldn’t have to open doors. And I know that’s pampered and patriarchal and offensive to the badass you are, but the thing is…you came here for me. And you don’t deserve to be treated like you’re less than the other women who are getting out of their own limos right now. You’re worth twice as much as all of them put together.”

Faced with that level of monologue over who should open a door, all Penelope could think to say was, “Oh.”

“Yeah. Now, if we were married, I could get out first and open your door. They only frown on that a little. Since I’m just your escort, the valets will open both our doors.”

“That’s so unnecessary.”

“It is.”

“Hey, Schneider?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for that stuff you said. It was sweet.”

“It’s completely true, Penelope. I’m glad you’re here.”

****

They introduced themselves to what felt like every person at the party. As Schneider fielded comments and questions about the family business, Penelope tried not to stare too hard at the cavernous ballroom they were gathered in.

It was even harder not to stare at the people. Couples passed by, offering air kisses and insults phrased like compliments, while Schneider made small talk with a slightly pained expression.

Most of the gala attendees were older, his father’s age, carrying themselves with the unmistakable look of wealth that meant endless beauty treatments and unnecessary surgery.

After two hours of men looking down her dress and women looking down their noses, Penelope wished desperately for a moment to rest and stop smiling. _Plus, was she seriously the only Latina here not wearing a uniform?_

Maybe she wasn’t keeping her fatigue under wraps as well as she thought, because Schneider put an arm around her and led her off to a corner of the room.

“Time for a breather,” he declared. “That’s enough fake-listening to last the next hour.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he answered with a shrug. “I could just use some time to be us again. Couldn’t you?”

“I would kill for a place to sit down,” Penelope confessed.

“They don’t really expect you to sit. Just mingle.” Schneider looked around the ballroom. “Basically, if you’re ready to relax, you leave. I’m sorry we can’t go until Father gets here.”

“Hey, I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

Schneider shook his head and didn’t respond.

Arching her feet inside the heels her _Mami_ had helped pick out, Penelope let her attention wander.

“Hey, what are those?”

Schneider glanced at the tray as it moved past them, carried by a man in a pristine suit.

“Appetizers.”

“They’re calling that food?” She couldn’t help scoffing at it–her Cuban and maternal instincts were equally insulted. “Looks like a lettuce leaf and a miniature pine cone. That wouldn’t feed anybody.”

“Well, luckily that’s not the goal.” He glanced her way. “It’s not like a fun party, Pen, where you and Lydia cook and the kids fight over the last _pastelito_ and we stay up too late watching movies.”

“I know **that,** ” she replied. “But why bother having snacks at all, if they’re not going to be edible?”

“To give off a very specific impression.”

In the years she’d known him so far, Penelope had seen Schneider suited up, she’d seen him take her _Mami_ out in style–but she had never seen him like this.

Dressed to the nines, with his face a perfect mask of company manners, Schneider was deeply miserable. _Everything about that picture was so wrong, it hurt to look at it._

“Well,” she said after a moment. “We can’t eat the food, we have to limit our beverage intake in these getups…do you want to dance?”

Schneider was too far away. He didn’t respond. Whatever was flickering in his eyes, Penelope wasn’t sure she wanted to know the details, so she reached for his hand.

“Hey, come back. You can’t just leave a well-dressed woman out on a limb like that.”

“What?” He squinted down at her, then sighed. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I said, would you like to dance?” She nudged him a little with her bare shoulder. “But now I’m thinking of making it an order instead of an invitation. Otherwise I’m going to spend this whole night alone while you’re standing right next to me.”

“Bossy,” Schneider said with a grin. “Sure, let’s go.”

Penelope left her hand in his as they crossed to the open ballroom. Part of her hoped maybe that would help keep him with her; a different part she chose to ignore thought that Schneider holding her hand aloft and leading her to a dance floor shouldn’t feel quite so natural.

“I’m really sorry, Pen,” he offered as they found a spot. “I asked you to come, and I’m being the worst date. All of this just reminds me of stuff I’d rather forget.”

“I didn’t come here to have fun,” Penelope reminded him, the teasing insult in her tone making him smile a little. “I came here for you.”

The music was a slow waltz, and as they began to move, it occurred to her that she had never really asked him about his life before they met.

Schneider could be such an open book, he volunteered so much that Penelope never wanted to know–what did it say about her that she’d let him talk her through major life crises but she didn’t even know his mother’s name?

Tipping her face up to his, Penelope was pleased to see that he looked a little more relaxed.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.” He was a good dancer, which was surprising since the man holding her in a formal waltz frame was the same one who had fallen off a stationary bike multiple times. 

“Was it always like this when you were growing up? With the food you can’t eat, and people you can’t stand talking to, and everybody substituting money for having an actual personality?”

“Sometimes it was worse,” Schneider said, looking over her head as he spoke. “This is everyone on their best behavior. You’re not seeing what it’s really like until the alcohol has hit the empty stomachs and mixed with the trophy wives’ pill collections and they’ve all forgotten the staff are still here.”

“Ouch.” She hugged him a little, from an awkward angle with their hands still clasped. “No wonder you drank.”

Schneider laughed and she felt him press a quick kiss to the top of her head. “I mean, it’s not that simple, but yeah…you have a point.”

“Oh, I know,” Penelope said. “It’s complicated and difficult and you’re coming up on eight years sober. You’re amazing. But also we’ve been only here two hours and I’m ready to drink three bottles of wine by myself.”

He stopped dancing. They were standing on the edge of the ballroom now, with Schneider looking at her like she had just sucker-punched him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. We’ve, um–” He paused before reaching for her again. “We’ve never talked much about my sobriety. And I think that’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.”

This time, Schneider drew her closer, and Penelope let him, resting her face against his starched vest and breathing in the combination of formalwear and his cologne.

“I meant it,” she said, close to his heart. She was pretty sure she felt his lips brush the top of her head again, but they kept swaying without mentioning it.

“Were there any good parts?” Penelope found herself asking, as the music changed and he twirled her out in a slow spin. “Things you liked, things you miss?”

The night made her curious, when she never really was before. _How did he go from this world to hers?_ It was hard to picture it, now that they were surrounded by old money and he was pulling her back toward him with the smoothest of moves.

“Not really,” Schneider said, thinking it over. “Having money has its perks, obviously, but this whole scene? Maybe ten years ago I would’ve said the easy access to vodka. In hindsight, not so much.”

“What about pretty girls in shiny dresses?” She joked as she settled back into his arms. “I mean you were a rich teenage boy–your hormones must have been happy.”

“I was a rich teenage boy,” he agreed, his tone the opposite of hers. “And there were lots of pretty girls. But I was a geeky kid with niche interests and the girls were the daughters of families like this.”

He gestured around them, then returned his hand to the small of Penelope’s back, where her glittering dress gave way to bare skin.

“It was never me they really liked. And that was all I wanted–to be appreciated for something other than the money.”

 _“Pobrecito,”_ Penelope murmured as she let her free hand curl against his chest. It was too easy to picture him young and long-limbed and lonely.

But in the moment, neither of them spoke, and his fingers were warm where they pressed into her back. The heat spread over her skin while they slow danced.

Then there was a rumble in the crowd around them, and the music stopped. 

“Well, here we go.” The near-whisper came out like both a warning and an apology. 

Schneider held her close, keeping his arm firmly around her waist, until someone beckoned him away from across the room.

Penelope missed him as soon as he was gone.

****

She watched as Schneider crossed to a dais and nodded in response to whatever the woman next to him was saying.

Then he stepped up to a microphone, offering the crowd a smile with nerves around the edges that Penelope was certain only she could see.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” Schneider cleared his throat while polite applause crested and subsided. “Thank you all for coming tonight, to support My Friend’s Place and their work with homeless youth here in Los Angeles. Schneider International is honored to sponsor this gala, and my father and I are incredibly grateful for every one of your generous donations.”

Penelope listened as he rattled off statistics about the charity–apparently from memory. She couldn’t help noticing that Schneider was more animated about the plight of homeless teens than he had been about all of the expensive festivities so far.

 _He didn’t belong there any more than she did._ The thought struck Penelope while she watched him run through a list of sponsors the corporation also wanted to thank. He might have the money and the history to match the bored-looking people surrounding her, but Schneider didn’t fit.

Not with them.

“And now,” Schneider said, pulling Penelope back to the present, “I’m pleased to welcome the man who made all of this possible–my father, Leonard Schneider.”

He took one large step away from the microphone and out of the spotlight, moving aside for someone she couldn’t say bore much of a resemblance to her best friend at all. _He must take after his mom._

Though the elder Schneider’s build was the same, his features were sharp, almost hawkish. His close-cropped hair was silver. He even carried himself differently, stiff where Schneider was at ease. The formality of white tie suited him perfectly.

“Yes, thank you, everyone–and welcome,” Leonard echoed as he took the stage. “As many of you know, this is a cause that is very close to my heart, and I’m pleased to be able to use my influence to raise awareness and donations. 

“When I expanded my company to the United States more than a decade ago, people called it a risk. Some called it crazy. But the business grew. It thrived. And that growth, that success, allowed me to fold more charitable giving into not just my life but also the life of Schneider International.”

 _Well, somebody didn’t lack for ego,_ Penelope thought. _Who talked like that?_ Her eyes kept wandering back to Schneider, whose face was a mask again, with that faraway look that left her feeling deeply unsettled. 

Living every moment with utter joy, sometimes an almost-childlike abandon–that was the essence of Schneider. Even in serious moments, he was the most present person she knew.

“Our company will be donating $500,000 to My Friend’s Place over the next year, to support their work in Los Angeles. Additionally, every donation made here tonight will be personally matched by me,” Leonard announced with a small smile. “So please, give generously. And enjoy the party.”

As the crowd applauded, Leonard left the low stage. Penelope watched Schneider bow his head while his father spoke to him, before he straightened up to peer across the filled ballroom.

When Schneider found her in the crowd–when his eyes met hers and for just a moment there was an intensity in them she had never seen before, fierce and desperate and wanting–it actually left Penelope breathless.

Then he blinked, and a passing waiter jarred her shoulder, and time started moving again. 

****

She dialed up her smile to eleven as Schneider approached with his father and the woman Penelope assumed was his newest stepmom. 

As soon he was close enough to reach for it, Schneider took her hand, and Penelope didn’t hesitate to link her fingers with his. 

Pretending to be his girlfriend wasn’t even the point anymore, she realized with more than a little surprise. Now she just needed him to make it through the night and go back to being Schneider again. 

She would figure out what that meant later. 

“Father, Rosa,” Schneider said formally. “This is my girlfriend, Penelope Alvarez.”

Schneider looked down at her, a hint of that earlier desperation still in his eyes, and Penelope considered faking an illness to get him out of the room. 

Of course, she couldn’t do that. How would it look? Looks were the whole reason they were here. 

All she could do was see him through this. _And not let him out of her sight until the party was over,_ Penelope decided, as his hand squeezed hers. If he needed a lifeline in this sea of artificiality, that was definitely something she knew how to be.

“Penelope,” Schneider continued, shifting himself toward her a little more, “this is my father, Leonard Schneider, the founder and CEO of Schneider International. And this is his wife, Rosa.”

Rosa shook Penelope’s hand while Leonard was still looking at his son. Her quiet welcome, offered in Spanish, made Penelope smile.

“Was that so hard?” Leonard asked. His tone was polite, but something in it got Penelope’s attention–some edge that she felt more than heard. “That was a proper introduction, and it seemed to come to you easily enough.”

“Father–”

“No, son, I’m curious. I practically had to beg you to come to this event, which is for charity, something I know you were raised to understand the importance of.”

Though in her head, she was already mentally setting the man’s car on fire, just for the way his words were making Schneider fold in on himself, Penelope kept her smile in place and held out her hand to Leonard.

“It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Mr. Schneider. I’ve heard so much about you and your beautiful wife.” 

He blinked and took her hand automatically, lifting the corners of his mouth in what might pass for a smile if he were actually looking at her. 

But if Penelope wasn’t giving him the benefit of the doubt _-–which by now, she definitely wasn’t--_ she would more accurately describe it as looking **through** her. And there was nothing pleasant in Leonard’s eyes, nothing to indicate that he even cared that she was there.

Maybe he wasn’t the nicest guy, maybe he was someone who threw his money around instead of showing up for his son…she got that some fathers weren’t very engaged. 

But how dare he treat Schneider like there was something wrong with him for being single and then not offer up the slightest attempt at happiness when he wasn’t?

_Sure, he **was** single, but his father didn’t know that. Leonard Schneider thought she, Penelope Alvarez, was seriously involved with his only child, and the best he could offer was disinterest?_

Now she was pissed. 

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Ms. Alvarez.”

“You can call me Penelope, of course,” she said, her voice dripping sweetness with such determination that Schneider’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “This is a gorgeous party.”

“Well, thank you.” Leonard lifted a martini glass off a passing tray and sipped as Rosa stepped over to exchange small talk with Schneider.

Figuring that meant she was stuck with him, Penelope smiled at Leonard again. “It’s nice to finally meet you. The building you bought your son? My _Mami_ has lived there for more than a decade. She loves it.”

“I see. Is that how the two of you met?”

“Sort of.” His gaze had already turned from her toward the stage where the orchestra was playing again, so she didn’t bother to elaborate. 

_How had that man helped create Schneider?_ Of all the things that Schneider could be called, boring was not one of them.

Schneider was still at her side, turned toward Rosa while they talked. When his stepmother disappeared into the crowd, he smiled down at Penelope and let go of her hand.

“We can head out now, if you want.”

Leonard gave his empty martini glass to a nearby waiter and stepped in front of Penelope to face Schneider. Lowering his voice didn’t keep her from hearing him say, “You most certainly will not be leaving yet.”

“We’ve been here for three hours, Father. We made the introductions, I gave the opening speech, and Penelope was a delight. Our duty is done.”

“Don’t you talk to me about duty. You think just showing up with your girlfriend makes up for everything else? Not cleaning yourself up, avoiding some of the most crucial members of the board…and that speech was a joke. I cannot believe that you came here and couldn’t even be bothered to write down what you were going to say in advance. You don’t think the charity deserved it? You don’t think I deserved it?”

Though he kept his expression blank, Schneider’s voice was careful like Penelope had never heard it before. Like a man approaching a minefield. "Father, I think maybe you’ve had too much to drink.” 

“Well, you would be the expert, wouldn’t you,” Leonard snapped. His wife cut through the crowd, concern creasing her face as she took in the scene. 

Rosa looped her arm through Leonard’s when she reached him, and Penelope couldn’t tell if it was to rein him in or not. 

"After six in-patient rehab stays, the lawyers for all the stunts you pulled, buying you that falling-down building like you’re a giant child playing with Legos, paying for a college education you never even completed. My god, son, all I asked was that you come here tonight and not make a fool of me.”

_Oh, hell, no. No–that was it._

“Hey!”

“Penelope, don’t-”

She shoved Schneider back, out of her way– _out of the line of fire, some part of her brain thought_ –and glared up at Leonard in her three-inch heels

“You need to sober up and calm down. This gala of yours is bringing in the kind of money that could run a small nation. All of which is going to a charity that frankly, your son seems to know more about than you do, so maybe he didn’t need little index cards to remind him why it matters.”

His tone was as frosty now as her blood was boiling. "Ms. Alvarez, I really don’t think that you’re in any position to lecture me about my son.”

“I am **with** your son. Who came here, at your request, to help make the night a success, which it is. And as someone who cares about your son, I have every right to tell you to shut your drunken, rich mouth until you’re ready to acknowledge the progress he has made–rather than focusing on the past because the life he wants is different from yours.”

“Come on, Pen,” Schneider sidled up to her like he would approach an angry jungle cat. “Let’s just go.”

Her temper was difficult to shake even when she knew better. Leonard Schneider didn’t care what she had to say, she had zero chance of getting through to him…but she was just so furious. 

The man spent Schneider’s childhood subjecting him to a revolving cast of stepmoms, he was never around, then he uprooted him and left him to drown on a college campus when he most needed help. _Now he had the nerve to act like Schneider was a blemish on the family name?_

“Despite coming from a world that never asked him to do more than look important and multiply piles of money, Schneider spends his time fixing the homes and lives of everyone around him. He looks out for my mom, my kids, all of us. And I’m sorry you can’t see that, you can’t understand it, because that tells me something incredibly sad about you.” 

Later, Lydia would smile when Schneider told her how much her Lupita resembled her in that moment: when she lifted her chin at Leonard dismissively, held out a hand and told Schneider, “Now, we can go.”

But right then, Penelope wasn’t thinking about how she looked, or what Schneider’s parents must be thinking–or even that she had definitely raised her voice and caused a scene, the opposite of what she’d come there to do.

All she was thinking was that the man currently guiding her out of the ostentatious building and into the dark night was one of the best men she had ever known. Without question. 

From what she had seen, his father didn’t even come close. 

_How dare he?_

****

“You didn’t deserve that, those things he said.”

They were sitting outside on a bench in the cool night air. Schneider shook his head. “You didn’t know me back then. He’s not wrong.”

She could still hear the hum of the party behind them, but it was blessedly faint. “I know you now. Hey–” Penelope tilted his face her way with the tips of her fingers.

“Hey. He’s wrong. Who you were then, it’s the foundation for who you are now. But who you are now…” She clucked her tongue. “ _Ay Dios mio,_ Schneider, you’re such a good guy. The only one I trust with my apartment, and my kids. Your father doesn’t know that man.”

Taking his hand, Penelope stared at their entwined fingers rather than at Schneider. “Me and my family, we are **lucky** to know that man. So try to remember that, okay? We love you.”

He lifted his eyes from the floor, staring at her, then at the spot where she was holding his hand.

“You can say that,” Schneider said, “and mean it. You’re a very kind person, Penelope.”

“It’s true,” she protested. “It’s not some act of charity.”

“I know that,” he said quietly, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “But with the family you had, how you were loved growing up…you have no idea what it’s like without. Showing that doesn’t come easily, to some people.”

“It comes easily to you. You give love away, Schneider. Like you give away money. You don’t hoard it or withhold it like your father. You’re not your father.”

“No. I’m really not. Couldn’t be,” he admitted, “even if I wanted to.”

“Please,” she said, with all the sincerity she could muster. “Please don’t ever try. He may be rich and powerful, but the world doesn’t need more men like him. We need you.”

“I need you,” Penelope added. _They were still holding hands,_ she realized, noting distantly that his was hot against hers, compared to the chilly breeze.

Schneider exhaled slowly. “Okay.”

He squeezed her hand, then let it go. Penelope tried not to focus too hard on the feeling he left behind.

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Now, that’s a good idea. Can you handle the drive home?” She smiled a little. “Between classes earlier and this delightful affair, I have to admit I’m pretty tired.”

“I’m fine to drive. But I did book us rooms,” he reminded her. “And you know your mom will keep an eye on the kids if you want to head back in the morning.”

She indulged in the fantasy of a hot bath, with no bickering teenagers nearby, for a few blissful moments. “How nice is the room?”

“Well, I’ve never been there,” Schneider admitted. “But it’s highly rated. Super fancy. You’d probably hate it.”

“I could steal so many little soaps,” Penelope said to herself.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” She stood, tugging him up after her. “You know what? Let’s do it. Bring on your grossly wealthy lifestyle, Schneider. I could use a quiet night in a soft bed.”


	3. I Am Aware Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares, confessions, close quarters...sudden understanding in unexpected places. 
> 
> _“So, you can have the shower first,” he told her. “Try not to fall asleep in there. I’ll grab my pajamas while I wait my turn. Good plan?”_
> 
> _She wanted to smooth the tired crease out of his forehead just for an excuse to touch him. That was how Penelope knew she was in trouble._
> 
> _“Good plan,” she agreed faintly. Then her brain caught up to his words. “Oh, crap.”_
> 
> _“What?”_
> 
> _“Pajamas.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is extra long. Thanks for sticking with me, I love you guys. 
> 
> PS: I borrowed a real hotel and some of its details, but took liberties anyplace I felt like it. So if you've actually stayed there, I promise I already know I'm wrong. :)

Schneider was glad she agreed without an argument. It was rare to see Penelope Alvarez looking like a strong wind could blow her over.

 _Then again,_ he wondered, _if she spent hours getting ready, when was the last time she ate?_ It wasn’t like the party had offered much in the way of food.

After they climbed back into the limo, Penelope waited until he was settled to move over to his side. “Do you mind?”

Shaking his head, Schneider watched her remove her heels and let out a satisfied sigh as she tossed one shoe onto the empty seat across from them, then the other.

“So much better,” Penelope groaned, trying to rub feeling back into her toes. “Those things are gorgeous, but terrible.”

“Then why wear them?”

“Why wax your chest?”

Schneider blinked at her. With a nod, she slumped back against the seat. “Exactly.”

The limo glided away from the curb and they lapsed into silence. Schneider slid his hand into the pocket hidden behind his waistcoat tails, where he was keeping his AA chip.

He had managed to leave it alone during the party, with Penelope always close by and his hand in hers. _After all, wouldn’t want to draw undue attention,_ he thought ruefully. _Wouldn’t want to be a disgrace._

Now he ran his fingers over the surface of the chip, trying to stay in the moment rather than thinking back to a really slippery bowling alley in 2011. It wasn’t like he doubted his progress--it was easy to look at his life now and see the difference--but being around his father took him back.

”He didn’t have to keep putting me through rehab,” Schneider said quietly as they left the party behind.

Penelope glanced over at him, covering a yawn. “Hmm?”

“My father. If he didn’t love me, he could have given up--any of those other times. It was a just a bad night, he’d been drinking...I don’t want you to think he’s a jerk who doesn’t love me.”

Penelope moved closer to take his free hand. She still wasn’t used to Schneider being so serious, but she was determined to be a good friend, after her failed attempt at playing the demure girlfriend. “I don’t think that,” she promised.

Flashing him a grin, she added, “I don’t like him. But I know he must love you, somewhere under that stony exterior.”

“Okay, good.” Schneider paused. “You don’t like him?”

The limo was cresting through L.A. traffic so smoothly, the ride was soothing. “No.”

Penelope’s hand relaxed in his and he focused on not jostling her. If she was tired enough to doze in formalwear, far be it from him to judge.

“Then why do you think that?”

“Because of the rehab, like you said.”

Her voice softened. “And besides. Who could not love you? You’re...you.”

Penelope's head settled against his shoulder as she drifted off the rest of the way.

Schneider watched the buildings and people they passed in the dark, holding onto his AA marker with one hand and her with the other.

****

When the limo gently bumped the curb, it woke Penelope out of an embarrassingly sound nap.

“Ugh, sorry.” She sat up, shifting back from Schneider and smoothing a hand over the curls that had pillowed her face.

“For what?”

He smiled at her, his thumb brushing the back of her hand like it had outside the gala. Until that moment, Penelope hadn’t even noticed their hands were still entwined.

Clearing her throat, she reached for her shoes, using putting them back on as an excuse to retreat. “So, this is the place, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ve heard it’s nice,” Schneider told her as a man in a red coat came to open the door for them. “Looks smaller than I thought, though.”

“Don’t be that guy.”

“What guy?”

“You know. The guy who can’t appreciate a fancy hotel because it’s not perfect enough. With the money I’m sure you’re spending here, you should try to enjoy it.”

“Not to pick a fight with you or anything,” Schneider replied, helping her out of the limo, “but it could be argued that spending the money is exactly why perfect is a reasonable expectation.”

Then he grinned at her, that wide, laid-back smile of his. “I’m not arguing that. Just saying someone could. Especially someone accompanied by a beautiful woman who deserves only the best.”

“Right.”

Schneider laid a guiding hand against her back as they walked into the hotel. Besides a bellhop-- _did places like this still call them bellhops?_ \--pushing past them with cart in hand, the lobby was empty.

Normally, she would be memorizing the imposing, regal design of the hotel to tell everyone about when she got home, but apparently her outburst on top of the evening of dancing and feigned civility was as much as she could take for one night.  _Just make it to the room,_ she promised herself,  _and you can crash._

Compared to Penelope’s fatigue, the front desk staff looked painfully alert and cheerful. 

"Welcome to the Millennium Biltmore Hotel." The woman greeting them had glossy brown hair and a tasteful nametag with 'Marie' printed on it.

“We have a reservation for two,” he told her. “Under ‘Schneider.’“

“Of course. Just a moment.” She hit a few keys on a hidden console and handed him a thin envelope. “Room service is open all night, the bar closes at two. If you need anything at all, just dial one on the suite’s wall panel and an attendant will be happy to assist you.”

He nodded and opened the envelope, passing Penelope a keycard. Then he paused.

“Wait, did you say ‘suite?’“

“Yes, sir.”

“The reservation was for two rooms with king size beds. Not a suite.”

Marie didn’t so much as blink in response. “What we have booked is a suite for two, with a California King and soaking tub and spa access. My apologies for the mixup, Mr. Schneider--you reserved two rooms?”

Penelope was nearly asleep on her feet next to him. She shrugged when he sent a panicked look her way.

“Could you give us a second room?” He asked. “Just charge it to the card on file. Adjoining would be fine.”

A few more quiet clicks and her smile was dialed up an extra notch. “I’m terribly sorry, sir, but all our individual rooms are booked tonight.”

“There’s--there’s nothing?”

“Schneider.” Penelope stepped closer, leaning into his side. “It’s fine.”

“What?”

“Let’s just go get some sleep, okay? We’re leaving in the morning anyway, we’ll barely be here long enough to settle in.”

He frowned, tapping one hand on the front desk. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, let’s go. You’ve slept on my couch, you’ve seen me in my pajamas. So we share a room for a night...no big deal.”

Concern deepened his frown, but Schneider nodded. "All right.”

He turned back toward Marie. “Can you send someone up to take our breakfast order?"

"Of course. Enjoy your stay," she told them as they walked to the elevator.

****

“Wow.”

“I know. I’m sorry it’s not as nice as what I reserved,” Schneider said, watching as their bags were left at the foot of the bed.

Penelope saw him casually hand twenty dollars to the man who had carried them, and waited until the door shut them in alone. “Are you kidding? This place is amazing!”

The room was huge, with not only a furnished sitting area but also one for dining, connected to a kitchen. “It’s nicer than any hotel I’ve ever seen in my life.” _It was nicer than most places she’d lived in._

“Huh.” Schneider watched her sit on a small sofa and take off her shoes for the second time while she stared longingly at the bed, and smiled. “I guess it’s okay.”

“Look out, Schneider,” she teased. “Your wealth is showing.”

Wincing a little, he sat next to her and carefully removed his own shoes. “At least we can rest now. You’ll want to change, I’m guessing, and get as much sleep as possible. That bed looks super comfortable.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll be happy in it,” Penelope agreed, before she realized what he meant.

“Hey, Schneider, no. I’m not taking the only bed when this is your room and this whole night was such a disaster. You deserve some decent rest.”

“I can relax in a fancy hotel bed any night,” he argued, their shoulders bumping each other as they sat surveying the California King in all its splendor. “The whole reason I got us rooms--or tried to--was so you would get in a little pampering yourself.”

She shook her head, though she didn’t pull away when he wrapped his arm around her. “If I took the bed, where would you sleep?”

“That couch looks nice, right?” He nodded toward the overstuffed red Chesterfield in the main room. “I’m sure I’ll sleep like a baby over there.”

Schneider waited a moment, until her silence made him worry she might fall asleep sitting next to him. “Come on, Penelope. That party was awful and we both know it. Let me give you one part of a good night.”

More than anything, what Penelope wanted instead was to settle her head on his shoulder again and stay there, where she felt so content. She didn’t even care about the bed. _That was weird, right?_

She sighed, and he knew he’d won the battle. “Fine. But only because I’m too tired to keep arguing with you.”

“Good enough for me. Here, stand up,” he told her.

“What?” She tilted her face up to him in confusion while he stood first. God, he was tall. _He didn’t feel tall,_ Penelope thought ridiculously. It was so strange how some guys gave off a tall sort of presence, like Max, but others...she spent so much time with Schneider and she rarely thought about how tall he actually was.

“Just come here.” He took her hand to tug her gently to her feet, then turn her away from him. “You need sleep, and you can’t sleep like this. I figure if it took me personal assistance to get into my outfit, you might need help with yours.”

“Oh.” Penelope could get out of the dress herself, so she should probably object, but it was a sweet gesture. She knew he didn’t mean anything by it. “Thanks,” she said instead, and she stood still while he crossed the distance between them.

Schneider’s hand brushed the back of her neck, feather-light. His fingers moved her curls aside so he could find the mechanism that connected her nearly backless gown.

She wanted to be able to blame it on her fatigue, on the cloud that had overtaken her brain while they waited for their room. But the second he touched her, Penelope couldn’t have felt more awake--her nerve endings were ablaze as though she’d just had five cups of coffee.

The humming along her skin was the opposite of a friendly reaction. It was definitely not the way she usually felt around Schneider. And she’d only had a little champagne at the party for the sake of appearances, so she couldn’t blame alcohol any more than sleep deprivation.

 _Maybe it was some kind of fairy tale effect?_ The night had been such a princess fantasy, which was definitely new for her. She was whisked from place to place on Schneider’s arm, doors opened for them, money slipped between palms--all the glitter and ease made her a little dizzy.

“Why do they make these things so much more complicated than they need to be?” Schneider murmured while his fingers pressed more firmly against her skin, fiddling with the fastener as though he had no idea there was heat building up inside her in response.

 _Stop,_ she wanted to tell him. _Please don’t stop,_ she wanted to tell him. Penelope reached back and gripped his hand.

“I got it,” she said. “And you’re right, I don’t know why dresses are so high security these days.”

Her laugh sounded half-hearted to her own ears, but she hoped he would mistake that for exhaustion or mercifully not notice at all.

Schneider’s hand moved down to rest on the curve of her bare back until he was sure she did indeed have enough brain capacity left at the moment to get it undone. When she faced him, he smiled, looking a little worn out himself.

“So, you can have the shower first,” he told her. “Try not to fall asleep in there. I’ll grab my pajamas while I wait my turn. Good plan?”

She wanted to smooth the tired crease out of his forehead just for an excuse to touch him. That was how Penelope knew she was in trouble.

“Good plan,” she agreed faintly. Then her brain caught up to his words. “Oh, crap.”

“What?”

“Pajamas.”

“What about them? I swear, mine are sleepover appropriate.”

She waved his words away with the hand that wasn’t holding the back of her dress together. “I brought a change of clothes in case I wanted to be more comfortable after the party, but I didn’t pack pajamas. I totally forgot that when I agreed to this night of luxury.”

“Maybe your mom snuck some in for you? She knew there was a chance we’d be here.”

Penelope shook her head. “I put the bag together while she was greeting you at the door. She’s good, but even she couldn’t have managed that.” She reaffixed her dress and sat back down on the little couch.

Schneider pressed his lips together like he wanted to say something, but didn’t.

“What is it?”

“Well…”

He shifted on his feet, and Penelope raised her eyebrows. “Schneider, what?”

“I brought two of everything. I always do. You know, you’re in the mood for a snack, you go looking for a kebab cart, you get sauce on your shirt, you wish you had another shirt--I’m not saying that exact situation has happened to me four times or anything, but I’ve learned to bring extra.”

“That’s really nice of you, but I’m not gonna take your clothes,” she replied.

“And the pants definitely wouldn’t fit you,” Schneider agreed, unoffended. “But one of my shirts would probably work for the night.”

One of his shirts would probably come to her ankles, Penelope thought, amused. But what was the alternative, sitting here all night? Sleeping in clothes she’d have to wear home tomorrow?

“I really want that shower,” she admitted.

“Tee or pajama?” Schneider asked before she could change her mind.

It only took her a fraction of a second to decide that borrowing his t-shirt would be worse. More intimate, somehow. What you would casually do with a boyfriend.

 _And what exactly would you do with someone whose pajamas you borrowed?_ A voice in the back of her head asked. It sounded just a little bit like her _Mami_. She ignored it.

“Pajama shirt.”

While Schneider rummaged through his travel bag, Penelope yawned. “I should not be this tired. The next time I think I can attend weekend classes the same day as a white tie gala, tell me I’m insane.”

“Well, Pen, if you’re lucky, this will be your last one. I know I would be grateful never to have to do this again.”

With somebody else, her retort would have been sharp and focused on his privilege. But she couldn’t argue with him about what she had seen at the party, and all she felt was a pang of sympathy. “You think you’ll have to?”

“Oh, I know it. In a few months, maybe a year, Father will pretend that scene never happened and expect my attendance again. Even if he left me out of it, the company will be mine someday.

“It’s my birthright,” Schneider said with his father’s tone as he handed her an oversized blue shirt. His expression was sour when he said it. Again she had the shuddering sensation of being faced with such a **wrong** version of her best friend.

“Is that really so bad?” Penelope asked gently, setting the shirt beside her. It was so soft, it felt more like a cloud than cotton.

Schneider shook his head. “Of course not, not really. I know I’m lucky. It’s just all the stuff that goes with it, the pompous ceremony...”

He took her hand and held it, absently, as though it was a perfectly natural thing to do while his mind was elsewhere.

“All those people who came tonight, they spent more money getting dressed than they donated. And the funds will mean the world to My Friend’s Place, but it’s nothing to them. It drives me nuts.”

“You know what, Schneider?” When Penelope squeezed his hand, his wide eyes flew to hers as though he didn't realize they were touching.

“What?”

“Until tonight, I had never even heard of My Friend’s Place. It seems like a really good cause, and I got the impression from the gala that this isn’t the first time your family business has held a fundraiser for it...but it’s clearly not on everyone’s radar.”

“Well, there are a lot of good causes out there,” he agreed.

“Yeah, and I bet My Friend’s Place isn’t the only one you could give an impassioned speech about if somebody asked you to, off the top of your head.”

He was watching her now, waiting for some kind of punchline. Penelope’s lips quirked as she continued, “And I would be willing to bet actual money--except you should never bet again, ever--that you donate to My Friend’s Place and other charities whether you’re at a fundraiser or not.”

Schneider shrugged. “It’s the right thing to do. I don’t need the money nearly as much as other people.”

“See? You’re thinking about this all wrong. It’s your birthright, and you are lucky. But those are good things, Schneider, because you’re a good person. Deep down, below-the-surface good. So when Schneider International is yours, you’ll be able to direct more of it toward charity. Or better working conditions. Or environmentally friendly ingredients.”

Penelope took her hand back, pressing it flat against his chest. “You’ll actually have the power other people wish they had every day, to fix stuff. You’ll be able to follow this heart of yours and make the world better.”

Schneider’s fingers laid over hers, settling there while he stared at her. “That was quite the speech, Penelope.”

“I just don’t want you to forget that you have options,” she said quietly. “At the party, you looked so...trapped. But you won’t be forever.”

“I was really glad to have you there,” Schneider admitted.

“Even though I almost punched your dad in the face?”

“That was pretty hot,” Schneider joked. She shoved him, and the tension between them uncoiled as she took a step back.

“Seriously, though, even with that. It’s always hard seeing him, it’s always at a party now, and usually I spend the rest of the night texting my sponsor because getting through the festivities without a drink is really hard. Tonight I barely thought about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I knew if I needed you, you were right there, and it helped. Maybe you weren’t the picture of a perfect society girlfriend,” he told her with a smile, “but you were exactly who I needed.”

“Wow. Well, I’m glad. It wasn’t fun, but I also had a good time, if that makes sense.”

“No sense at all. But I get it.” He smiled at her. “Anyway, you should go grab that shower, huh?”

“Right.” With shirt in hand, Penelope headed to the bathroom. It was as lush as she’d imagined: perfect water pressure, soaps shaped like swans...worth lingering in to appreciate the extravagant touches.

Even so, she made her shower quick, wanting to leave Schneider some hot water. The spray helped unknot muscles she hadn’t realized were tense, which was nice.

After she was done drying off and squeezing most of the water out of her hair--the giant white towels reminded her of cotton candy--Penelope reached for her borrowed shirt.

Okay, it didn’t fall to her ankles, but it was pretty long. It worked as a decent nightgown, only leaving her legs exposed.

That would be weird with Schneider in the room, Penelope acknowledged. But she could live with it in exchange for a lake-sized bed after a steaming shower.

The harder part was one she hadn’t anticipated: the scoop-necked cotton smelled like Schneider. A clean, sort of woodsy smell she wanted to curl up in and cuddle.

Which was definitely weird. Not just the impulse she completely blamed on exhaustion because it was crazy, but the fact that somehow his clean shirt smelled more like him than he did. Standing right next to him she had never noticed his scent as much as she did now that she was wrapped in it.

That must be it. She was wrapped up in the essence of Schneider, in a strange but very real way, and that was too close to being actually wrapped up in him.

Penelope was too close to wanting that all of a sudden.

Unfortunately, since she needed pajamas, she was just going to have to deal with it.

Leaving the bathroom, she frowned at the empty couch where she had left him. It took her a moment to hear the quiet click of the entryway door before he came around the corner.

“Oh!” Schneider halted abruptly. “Breakfast service,” he explained before she could ask.

“No jokes,” she said, pointing a threatening finger at him. “I didn’t bother to pack makeup and I know how tired I am, so I can only imagine how I look.”

He lifted his hands in defense. “No jokes.”

Then he reached out to play with one of her curls. She didn’t bother to bat his hand away. “You don’t need the makeup,” Schneider said as he headed for the bathroom. “You never do.”

****

The sound of the water running in the background was barely a hum as Penelope sat on the bed, but to her it was deafening. She was still slightly damp from her own shower, her skin tingling and clean, and now Schneider was in there...where she had been.

She was being stupid.

It was just Schneider washing the horrible party off, like she had.

_It was Schneider, a surprisingly good dancer who cleaned up well, sharing a shower and a hotel room with her for the night. Complimenting her. Holding her hand._

He was her best friend, Penelope reminded herself firmly. It didn't mean anything.

The water shut off sooner than she expected. He took an even shorter shower than she had, which, given his metrosexual style, was kind of a surprise.

Schneider came out of the bathroom in his pajama pants a few minutes later, toweling off his hair and letting it settle before he finished getting dressed.

He was shirtless and glistening and Penelope was trying her hardest to not be an idiot, yeah...but she was still a woman. One who hadn’t been on a date in quite a while.

She shifted herself into a different sitting position just so she had an excuse to look down at her feet and keep her eyes locked there until he was fully clothed and she was certain she wouldn't make a fool of herself.

If Schneider got even a hint that she thought he was attractive in more than a sleep-deprived _quinces_ kind of way, he would never let her live it down. That moment had been bad enough.

Unfortunately, he was. Behind the hipster clothes and his sometimes eyeroll-inducing words, he was attractive in the same deep-down way that he was good.

The surface-level pretty, she could brush off without even thinking about it. Lots of pretty men in the world, and a ton of those were jerks.

Schneider was different. He had always been different, from the moment they met. His style choices back then were awful, and hitting on her instantly was not the way to impress her--or almost any woman, let's be real. But it did take guts, and more than that...he was interested in her as a single mom. She remembered that sometimes, when she was able to casually mention her kids and scare off any guy who was too up in her business.

It worked every time, sending them running, thank God. But she knew that if they had met under different circumstances, after she and Victor were over, it wouldn't have worked on Schneider. Which factored in.

Too many attractive qualities factored in, the longer they were friends, leaving her in a hotel room with an attractive guy who also happened to be one of the people she trusted most in the world.

On top of all that, being smacked in the face with the reminder that he was kind of sexy?

She did not need that right now.

So she hoped it was forgivable that she was more than a little abrupt once he was done getting dressed and had grabbed a spare blanket from the sitting area.

"Night, Schneider."

The light next to her was already off before he got the chance to say anything.

She could hear the worry and confusion in his tone when he responded. "Sleep well, Pen."

Her penance was lying awake for a long time while he settled in on the sofa, much longer than it usually took her to fall asleep, painfully aware the whole time of his presence.

And how easy it would be to close the distance between them in the dark.

****

She woke up shouting in Spanish, and only realized that was the case when she heard Schneider’s terrible--though much improved--accent trying to talk her out of the nightmare she had been trapped in.

It was a kind attempt to comfort her, as though he thought she needed to hear him in Spanish to really hear him. Schneider was sitting beside her on the bed, his arm firmly bracing her, and he was murmuring the sorts of things people say, in the face of horror and trauma and pain.

_"Todo está bien, Penelope, estás despierta. No estás sola. Yo estoy aquí contigo. Estás a salvo, me escuchas?"_

He switched back to English when he felt her weight shift closer. “You’re safe. It was just a dream.”

She was still shaky enough to let herself lean on him in the dark room, her back settling against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing grounding her in reality.

“I--I know. I know where I am now. I hear you.” She wanted to stay there, feeling steadier just because she wasn’t alone...but she knew she couldn’t.

_Shouldn’t._

“It’s okay, Schneider. I’m alright.” Penelope put a few inches of space between them and took in a deep breath before she turned his way.

The dim glow of the alarm clock silhouetted Schneider when he lifted his hand to her face. It would have struck her as bizarre under normal circumstances, his fingers brushing her cheek so softly--but in the dark, while she was still shuddering from the flashbacks, it was soothing.

Schneider could be so effortlessly sweet sometimes, she thought. Now that she had met his father, it was even more impressive, knowing that. He came from such a cold, shallow world and yet he was full of sincerity, and warmth, and...

 _Love,_ Penelope thought and refused to think all in the same fluttering moment of clarity.

He heard her intake of air and misunderstood the source of it, reaching out for her again. “Hey, come here. Just give yourself a minute.”

Schneider rubbed her back, trying to comfort her while she let herself rest in the curve of his shoulder. “You want to talk about it?”

“What?” For a second, Penelope thought maybe she’d accidentally said something out loud.

“Your nightmare. If it’ll help, you can tell me.”

“Oh.” She let out a relieved breath. _That._ “It’s just the usual.”

He pulled back, trying to study her face in the dark. “What’s...the usual? You have nightmares a lot?”

Schneider knew about her depression and her anxiety, more intimately than anyone outside her family and group therapy--but she hadn’t realized until that moment that they had never discussed her PTS the same way.

“Yes. I...” Penelope swallowed hard, wondering if this was really a good idea. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, and God knew he was used to seeing both the good and the bad of her mental health.

But telling him about this felt less like going to the friend she trusted most, when she was desperate and scared in the middle of the night...and more like telling a man she really liked that a part of her was broken.

Everything was different now, after an evening of being his girlfriend didn’t feel nearly as awkward and stupid and wrong as it should have. It was such a sudden shift, it scared her.

And she couldn’t tell if it was real, especially while Schneider was cuddled up to her in his pajamas with her in his shirt like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Penelope.” Oblivious to her thoughts, he took one of her hands with his. “You don’t have to tell me. I just wanted you to have the option.”

She squeezed his hand. “No, I think you should know. It’s weird that you don’t. You know about so much other stuff.”

“Okay, well, I’m not going anywhere.” He squeezed back. “Take your time.”

Sliding her hand free, Penelope squared her shoulders. “I have PTSD. From my Army days.”

“Oh.” She felt more than saw Schneider nod. “Yeah, I know. Is that--was it a flashback kind of nightmare, then? Is that what you meant?”

Frowning, she tried to make out his expression for a few seconds before sighing and getting up off the bed to flip on the light.

“You know? What do you mean, you know?”

Squinting against the unexpected brightness, Schneider faced her without his glasses on. His hair had dried curly while he slept.

“Ah.” Embarrassed, he lifted a shoulder and aimed his unfocused eyes at the floor. “Well, I know we’ve never really talked about it, but it’s sort of...come up. People have mentioned it. Not to me!” He rushed to add. “But with me around.”

“What people?” If her _Mami_ was telling people about her pills or her group, they were going to be having a talk when she got home.

“It’s not like that, Penelope,” Schneider told her seriously. “Okay? I overheard you and Jill once. I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t any of my business, but I was coming down the hall and I heard a comment you made--and, well, I know a couple of guys in AA who’ve served and I understood what it meant.”

“Oh.” Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. She sat back down, leaving the light on behind her.

“Yeah.” Schneider ran a hand through his hair, reminding her of how different it looked.

“Hey,” she ventured, “so you have curly hair too?”

“I’m a real man of mystery,” he agreed, lifting one corner of his mouth.

“Wow.” Penelope moved a little closer, peering at it. “You must spend so much time making it look straight. I could never do that with mine.”

“And you never should,” Schneider said with a smile. “Your hair is great. Full of life, just like you.”

“Thanks.”

She realized that from the other side of the bed, he was probably getting eyestrain, if he could make her out at all. “Schneider?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you even see me?”

“Not really,” he admitted.

She moved in a few inches. “What about now?”

“Now you are a Penelope-shaped blur.”

A few inches closer, and she had to stop herself from taking his hand just because it was there on the bed in front of her. “Now?”

The smile spread from his eyes to light up his whole face. “Yes. I can see you now. But you know, I kind of had what you look like memorized before.”

“I know," she said. "I just figured that since I turned the light on and everything, it was only fair that we both be able to see.”

“Well, what do you see? Besides my curly hair, that is.”

She really should bring the situation back to a lighthearted place, but she didn’t know how. He had such bright eyes, Penelope thought. The lamplight turned them a darker blue. “I see the guy who pulled himself out of his own dreams to come protect me from mine. Thanks for that, Schneider.”

“No big deal,” he said, trying to brush off the way she was looking at him. “I wasn’t even dreaming--that’s how I heard you so quickly.”

“Were you awake?”

He nodded, looking guilty, which made no sense.

“For how long?”

“A while.”

“Schneider. How long was a while?”

“A few...hours.”

Penelope looked at the clock and then at him. “You’ve been awake the whole night! What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I went to bed on the couch, you saw me.”

“Yes, and then I fell asleep, and apparently you didn’t.”

“I did!” Schneider shook his head so emphatically it made the bed bounce a little. “I think I was asleep, too, for about a half hour.”

“And then what?”

“Then I fell off the couch.”

Penelope covered the laugh that tried to escape, but his narrowed eyes made it clear he noticed.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry. You fell off the couch,” she prompted.

“After that, I spent the night in that chair over there.” He pointed to a large chair with a cushioned seat and curved arms that sat in the corner across from the bathroom.

“Okay, but why? Were you scared you might fall off the couch again?”

“No,” he admitted. “It wasn’t that.”

 _“_ Oh my God, out with it then!” She put both her hands on his shoulders. “It’s a simple question.”

Penelope was so close her breath was brushing his chin. Her hands were holding on as though she could compel the words out of him by willpower alone. His mind was totally blank. “I’m sorry, what was the question again?”

“Why have you been awake this whole time, while I was busy having terrible dreams?”

“Oh. I, um, I couldn’t sleep in the chair. Straight up that way, it just wasn’t working. And the couch--it’s really uncomfortable, Pen. It’s so bad.”

“ **That’s** why?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re such a moron.”

Penelope let go of his shoulders, but there was no bite to her words. _They kind of sounded...affectionate?_ “Well, that’s rude.”

“Look down. Look down at where we are.”

“We are on the bed.”

"Without your glasses on, can you still see it?”

“Yeah…”

“Then you know this bed is gigantic. This bed could fit my entire family! Except that we’d kill each other because Alex kicks and Elena wraps herself in the covers like a cocoon and _Mami_ talks in her sleep. Schneider, there is absolutely no reason we can’t share this bed so you don’t spend the night giving yourself back problems and not getting any rest.”

“You already agreed to take the bed,” he argued.

Penelope lifted her chin. “And now I’m telling you, if you don’t share the bed with me, I’ll sleep on the couch in protest and then you’ll have the whole bed, plus your guilt.”

“You’re such a mom.” Schneider ran a hand over the back of his neck, but she knew she had him. “Fine,” he agreed.

“Good.” Penelope looked sideways at him from where she sat, wondering what other things he saw or heard and never mentioned. “I’m grateful.”

“For what?”

“That you said yes. And not just to spare you pain. For selfish reasons, too.”

“Really.”

“Yes. We’ve only got a few more hours until sunrise. I’d like to think the rest of my sleep will be peaceful, but who knows. It’s easier to play the mom card,” she admitted, “than tell the truth.”

Schneider‘s voice was almost as soft as his shirt. "And what's the truth?"

"I don't want to be alone anymore."

He didn't need more than that. Schneider usually made things easy; it was one of his best qualities. He tugged her toward him a little for a hug, then stretched out on top of the bed at her side. "You get under the covers and I'll be right here," he promised.

 _What was it she'd said at check-in?_ Penelope asked herself ruefully as she turned the light back off. _No big deal?_

Whether he realized it or not, she hadn't just been talking about this one night in this room, so far away from real life.

_Damn it, Penelope. Who was the moron now?_

****

Though she had her mom watching the kids, giving her the time to sleep in and head home whenever they wanted, Penelope's internal clock woke her early anyway.

And she wasn't alone.

True to his word, Schneider had stayed with her all night. At some point, half-asleep and vulnerable with it, she remembered turning over and telling him to get under the covers. "Big bed. 'S fine. Just stay."

"I'm not going anywhere," he'd whispered as she fell back asleep. She hadn't managed to hold on to consciousness long enough to find out if he had taken her suggestion, but in the weak light of early morning, now she knew.

Schneider was under the covers with her. Like, all the way with her. Cuddled right up, her back to his chest.

He was really warm. _And firm, and male,_ she thought, then cursed herself for thinking.

Breathing in that deep, even way that indicated sleep, Schneider had his arm curled around her, too. Penelope closed her eyes and let herself have a few minutes there--she had missed how good that felt, the safety of it, the intimacy even.

It shouldn't feel so good with Schneider, who was only there to be a comfort, but it did.

_God, it really did._

Schneider woke while she was still wondering at that fact, his fingers twitching against her stomach before he was alert enough to register the world.

He sat straight up, hand flying to his mouth as he pulled away. "Oh! Morning, Penelope. Sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"You're fine, Schneider," she said, reluctantly sitting up next to him.

"I just--last night you seemed like maybe you were having another nightmare, and--"

She cut him off. "I remember. Don't worry about it, okay? I wasn't totally awake at the time, but I was lucid enough to know that I asked you. I asked you to spoon me, and because you're a nice guy, you didn't shake me back into my senses."

"This is all my _Mami's_  fault," Penelope muttered, brushing her hair away from her face. "I can't believe I did that. I'm sorry, Schneider."

"Hey, no. Don't."

"What?"

"You never have to apologize to me for being human. Me, of all people, Pen." He smiled. "And I didn't mind."

"Oh." She had no clue what to make of that. She knew what she wanted to make of it, what had her pulse speeding up a little in a bubbly nervous way, but Schneider was the guy who once propositioned her in the name of friendship. To a man like that, did platonic cuddling have a deeper meaning at all?

She couldn't help the fact that it meant something to her, because she remembered more than he'd mentioned.

In that weak moment, when she hadn't been quite awake enough to engage the part of her brain that would've told her to under no circumstances ask Schneider to **spoon** her, for God's sake...he paused.

Schneider never hesitated to comfort, but last night he paused. "You sure?" He asked quietly, his voice crossing the inches of mattress between them.

"Please," she had agreed, her voice rough with sleep, and only then did he move.

"More nightmares?" Schneider whispered as he shifted himself to her half of the bed.

Penelope was facing away from him already, in the same position she had switched to when he got under the covers and she realized he slept on his back. The pretense of distance had helped her then.

"Mm-hmm," she answered. He was carefully joining her, trying to fit himself against her back without getting closer than she might want, but she leaned herself into him to erase the gaps. "Really bad dreams," she mumbled, already starting to fall back asleep. "Don't leave."

His arm came to rest lightly across her side. "I'm here. I'm right here, Pen. I got you."

That was the last thing she'd heard before she slipped back into dreams, blissfully blank ones.

But the morning after? Now, that moment was on a loop in her head, all tangled up with a memory.

A couple years ago, arguing with her Mami about Victor, about her life and the kids and how hard things were.

 _"I wanted to do this with somebody. That was the plan. Family dinners, and inside jokes, and one of the kids says something cute, and you share a look. And even right now to be able to say, ‘Okay, they're insane, we're not.’ A partner. Someone to love. Someone...someone in your bed. You know, since Victor's gone, I don't sleep. Because he used to spoon me to sleep. So, yeah, Mom, I miss the good stuff. Sometimes you just need somebody to give you a hug and say, ‘I got you.’”_

Schneider couldn't know, of course. There was no way he knew about that conversation. It was pure coincidence. Meaningless.

Just not to her.

Because who did she go looking for in the middle of the night when she was struggling as a mom?

Who did she ask to play her husband when life threw her curveballs and she was trying to make ends meet?

Who celebrated every milestone, and was right there beside her for the hardest moments?

If there was a God, he was laughing so hard at her right now, Penelope thought. She found exactly what she'd been looking for ever since her marriage imploded, in the last place she would have been willing to look.

Schneider was frozen in place next to her like he was afraid to move, waiting for her to change her mind and be pissed at him. She wondered what he would say if instead, she told him that it turned out he was the partner she'd needed all along.

A polite knock on the door of the suite jolted him into action and her out of her thoughts.

"Breakfast," Schneider declared, relief pitching his voice higher than normal.

"Great," Penelope said. She decided to appreciate the interruption as an assist from the universe. It stopped her from doing, or saying, anything she couldn't take back later. _Wasn't it bad enough she'd practically begged him to join her in bed last night?_ Half-asleep Penelope clearly could not be trusted.

They ate the gorgeous breakfast spread he'd ordered without really speaking, Schneider's eyes watchful behind his glasses the whole time. She was too busy trying to put her feelings back where they belonged to worry about what he was thinking.

"You okay?" He finally asked, when she had set her cloth napkin aside and was sipping the last of her coffee.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

That came out harsher than she'd intended. _Very nice, Penelope._ She dug her fingertips into the fabric of the shirt she hadn't given back to him yet, and tried again.

"I'm fine, Schneider. This place serves an awesome continental breakfast."

He attempted to match his tone to hers as he got up from the table. "It was good, wasn't it? I'm gonna get dressed."

Penelope watched him take a neatly folded pile of clothes to the bathroom, and sighed. She didn't want things to change--that was why she had tried to put them back the way they were.

But now it all just felt off anyway.

She went to retrieve her own clothes, curling up in the corner chair until he emerged.

 _You made it through military service,_ Penelope reminded herself as she got dressed, then followed Schneider out of the room and down to the lobby. _You had two kids, and you've raised them as a single mom since the divorce. You even went back to school! You can succeed at anything you decide to do._

 _So you can fix this,_ she thought, taking her seat in the car that was waiting to bring them back to reality.

 _You just have to decide to_ **_not_ ** _be in love with him._

**Author's Note:**

> All chapter titles borrowed from "Head Over Feet" by Alanis Morissette. Story title borrowed from "Eric's Song" by Vienna Teng.


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